As in Clara Barton, famous nurse, founder of the American Red Cross.
I wanted to hug him, but he was holding a huge box.
“Come in, come in!”
He set the box down on the ottoman that served as a coffee table in front of my TV. Then he turned and wrapped me in a hug, saying, “Wow! Look what you’ve done with the place!”
“Well, I had some good help,” I said, gesturing for him to sit on the couch. “What can I get you? I’m so glad you’re here! Are you spending the night?”
He shook his head and took my hands, pulling me over to sit beside him. “I, um…”
My heart raced. Was he sick? Was there an emergency? Because my dad didn’t drive an hour and a half tonight for an impromptu visit.
“Well, sweetie, your mom called me.”
My eyes widened. “And you answered?”
He laughed. “Well, mainly I answered because she called the shop, and you know we don’t have that newfangled caller ID.”
I had to stifle my laugh. Technology from the nineties was not newfangled. But this was a part of my dad’s charm.
“Look, she was very upset about your finding out she had never adopted you, and she felt like…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands, which he was rubbing together, a telltale nervous trait.
I put my hand on his. I hated to see him as anything but the strong, capable man who had raised me, who was sure of himself and could fix anything with those hands. He looked up at me. “She thought I needed to take responsibility for my part in this.”
That thudding heart again. “Your part?”
“Look, honey, I’m not a very exciting guy. I know that. But I love you, and I loved Julie, and when she left, all my biggest fears were confirmed. I wasn’t enough to make someone stay.”
“Dad, believe me, exciting is not what a woman should look for in a husband. You have all the traits of a perfect husband and father.”
He smiled at me sadly. “Well, honey, not perfect.” He sighed. “Look, when she left, I made it very clear that she wouldn’t be involved anymore. I told myself that a clean break was best for you,that you didn’t need an adulterer as your example, that you didn’t need her flitting in and out of your life when it was convenient for her. I told myself that, by keeping her away, I was giving you stability.”
I had to wipe tears from my eyes, remembering how much it had hurt all those years to be away from her. She was justgone. I got that postcard, the week after she left, the one with the Cape Carolina return address that I kept underneath my bed. I had read it so many times I had it memorized:I love you, my girl. And it won’t be long until we are together again. Whatever happens, don’t forget how special you are. Love, Mom.
It was the only goodbye I ever got, and it was a paltry one.
“But see,” Dad continued, “when I look back on it now, I wonder if maybe I wasn’t protecting myself too, if maybe I wasn’t punishing her. If she didn’t want me, she couldn’t have you either.”
I tried to summon some anger toward him, but all I could see was a strong man before me, broken. All I could see was a man who had never cooked but learned to make banana nut bread because it was his daughter’s favorite breakfast, who learned to iron skirts for cheerleading competitions, who took me prom dress shopping and oohed and aahed over every choice, who sat at the kitchen table when he was exhausted to help me with calculus and college applications. I couldn’t be mad at him because he had been hurt too. And I knew with everything inside of me that he had done his best, just like I was doing now.
So I just nodded and squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, Dad,” I whispered. “You did great. You gave me this whole stable, wonderful childhood, and I know it was hard for you. You did your best. We all do.”
We all do.I did. And I knew, lately, my best had been pretty bad. But, even so, that’s what I was doing. My best.
He put his hand on the box and patted it. “You might feel differently when you know about this.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“After you got that postcard from your mom, you were sad and despondent for days. So, from then on, whatever she sent, I just put in the box.” He cleared his throat. “I wanted to throw it all away, but I couldn’t quite do it. So, it’s all yours.”
With that, he stood up.
“Where are you going? You can’t spend the night?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to get back to the shop. You know that. But maybe I can peek at Maisy before I do?”
I nodded and gestured for him to follow me. The night-light by her crib illuminated her sweet sleeping face, and I was completely overwhelmed by my love for her. Dad smiled down at her and squeezed my arm. We tiptoed out of the room, and I closed the door softly.
